


dug my way out, blood and fire

by liveonthesun



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Permanent Injury, Polyamory, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liveonthesun/pseuds/liveonthesun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And so the way she's always seen it, her body tells stories. </p><p>There's the nick on her thumb from that afternoon with her father, her first lesson on pain and perseverance. Her hands are rough and her arms are lean and defined from working them too hard for too long. There's the one lock of hair that's so much straighter than the rest of it from how she pulls on it constantly while dreaming up ideas on her tablet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dug my way out, blood and fire

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/3266.html?thread=2218690) at avengerkink; thanks to [allthatihavemet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/allthatihavemet) for the beta.

She cuts herself one day while working with her father, using tools no one in their right mind would let a five-year-old handle. Before she has the time to tear up and say that it hurts, Howard says, "It's a trophy, Antonia. It's proof that you worked hard on something and didn't give up even when it hurt."

She squeezes her eyes to hold back the tears, sucks on her thumb to stop the bleeding, and gets right back to it in thirty seconds time.

It sticks with her, one of the few things her father ever said that she took to heart in a positive way. 

And so the way she's always seen it, her body tells stories. 

There's the nick on her thumb from that afternoon with her father, her first lesson on pain and perseverance. Her hands are rough and her arms are lean and defined from working them too hard for too long. There's the one lock of hair that's so much straighter than the rest of it from how she pulls on it constantly while dreaming up ideas on her tablet.

They're all evidence of her life's work, of herself. 

She's the most fucking brilliant person on the face of the planet, after all. Why should she hide it?

 

*

 

The words _vain_ , _narcissistic_ , and _bitch_ start showing up alongside her name with astounding frequency by the time she is twenty-five, and they never slow down. She never thinks to fight against it: it's not slander if it's true, so she might as well milk it for all it's worth.

It suits her, really. By some genetic miracle she was born with a face that matched her personality — bold, striking features and a default expression that said, _fuck with me and you will never regret an action more._

Afghanistan happens, and brings with it the arc reactor.

And honestly, if anything it only highlights what was already there. The glow of the arc reactor emphasizes the line of her jaw, the smirk on her mouth, the intensity of her eyes, and there's that added message there now, the one that screams, _fuck with me and I will take over the whole goddamn world._

 

*

 

"Does it hurt?" Pepper asks one afternoon. Toni had a meeting that morning and has another one in an hour and decided to just kill time in Pepper's office working on designs while Pepper does paperwork.

Toni pauses, and funny, she thinks, that no one has ever thought to ask before, because god, yes, does it ever hurt, it's kind of killing her right now actually, and she could bear the pain before because at least she wasn't dead, but this? No, the pain and scars are all pointless now, which just makes it all hurt _that much more._

But she doesn't say any of that, can't say any of that, because so far it's all just been thoughts, and if she turns them into words that might make it actually real.

So she takes a deep breath, doesn't look at Pepper, and simply says, "Sometimes."

"Of course it does," Pepper says, and it's not in her usual matter-of-fact way, no, there's something there that very distinctly says, _you're not telling me everything_. Out of the corner of her eye Toni sees Pepper put down her pen and turn from her computer to look at her, but Toni doesn't look back, doesn't want to see the expression on her face as she adds, "You're alive."

Because, well, _about that._

 

*

 

Her body tells stories.

Embedded between her breasts is the best thing she's ever done. Men have died trying to get it for themselves, and she wears it on display for the whole world to see.

Surrounding it are the scars that remind everyone of why it's there, forced into her body and keeping her alive. The skin is red and white and twisted and angry and she hates it, really, but it tells everyone that her best tech isn't an ever-present part of her just so she can show it off.

No, she leaves her top buttons undone when she wants to do that.

She's a fucking superhero, she tells herself as she looks in the mirror. She's a fucking superhero and she's fought and bled and almost died so many times to get where she is right now. Why shouldn't everyone see it?

 

*

 

She reaches for the whiskey, finds it empty, goes for the coffee instead. The new StarkPhone on her desk isn't doing what her code says it should, and she's checked and double checked and triple checked and the answer is right at the back of her brain, she can _feel_ it, if only, goddammit, if only it would surface, but-

"You've been down here long enough that even Pepper's getting worried," Steve says somewhere behind her.

"I've almost got it, just give me a while longer," she says, taking another drink from the coffee.

Steve is at her back now, a hand on her shoulder, turning her around to face him. "It's already been a while," he says, "several whiles, actually. Come on upstairs. Eat, sleep, both, neither. Just give yourself a break."

He says it gently, but it's an order. She can tell because he picks her up, and _fuck_ , drunk and caffeinated and drawn out and frustrated as she is, that is never going to stop being hot. Her legs wrap around his waist, and he presses his face between her breasts, chin pushing down her camisole so that his nose is against the arc reactor and his mouth is against the long, red scar that runs down from it. It's one of the places she's completely lost feeling, but it's almost warm when he kisses it.

 

*

 

Two years later, and it still startles her sometimes.

She's spent countless hours staring at her chest, touching it, running her fingers over the red and white lines that spider out, adjusting her breasts throughout the day as they start to ache from pressing against the cold, hard metal between them. You'd think she'd be used to it by now.

But sometimes, just sometimes, she'll walk past a mirror and do a double take. She'll fish out something that dropped in her cleavage and wonder why the skin is so calloused. She'll wake up in the middle of the night, sprawled out on her stomach, and wonder why it feels like she's sleeping with a brick under her chest.

And oh yeah. Yeah. That.

 

*

 

She walks onto the balcony to find Bucky looking over the railing with a cigarette in hand and a full ashtray next to him.

"Got a death wish?" she teases, and he laughs.

"Don't know if you got the memo, darlin'," he says, nodding towards his metal arm, "but I'm too damn stubborn."

She walks over to stand next to him, presses her warm shoulder against his cold one, and he reaches over with his right hand and taps the arc reactor twice. "You know how that goes."

She brings a hand up to run it over his shoulder, fingers lingering where twisted skin meets smooth metal. 

"Guess you're right," she says, then takes the cigarette from between his lips, pulls, and presses her mouth against his, feeling him inhale as she breathes the smoke back out.

 

*

 

Her body tells stories.

Tonight there are lines down her back from Pepper's nails, bruises on her hips from Bucky's fingers, marks on her thighs from Steve's mouth.

She's the luckiest person on the face of the planet, she knows, and, yeah, she loves to see that.


End file.
